Pieces of a Widow

Since that dreadful day, May 6, 2022, I got into the habit of beginning the day with saying, “Good morning, Baby. I miss and love you so much,” and then I prayed and meditated. The evenings ended the same way. The early months were racked with tears, sadness, and disbelief. My heart was so full of pain. Every morning during my prayer, I would break down and cry; that is every morning until September 26, 2022.

I panicked when I realized I hadn’t cried yet. Was I forgetting Monty? Will I no longer sense him or dream about him? How could I forget his wonderful touch and soothing voice? I don’t want to forget! I can’t forget! Vivid memories of Monty are what get me through the day. I felt awful; like I let him down, again. How can I forget my true love? I have intentional reminders everywhere. Am I that selfish that I can’t see past myself? The regrets and self-blame poured over my mind and put me into a deep funk.

Later that day I had my counseling appointment and shared my fear.

“For the first time since Monty was taken from me, I didn’t cry this morning,” I said with panic in my voice.

She responded with, “How does that make you feel?”

I shared irrational thoughts, and as if on cue, tears broke through the dam. I cried enough tears to more than make up for the ones that I didn’t shed that morning.  

“I don’t want to forget him. I don’t understand how I could but it felt like I did,” I said.

I learned to be easier on myself. I adjusted my expectations of grief and acknowledged that there will be times that tears might not fall. This was impossible for me to imagine but I know that, as I heal, some of those tears will be replaced by smiles. My heart pain will begin to soften as my world grows bigger to hold it.

The love Monty and I shared will never be forgotten. We will always be connected. The things I do with him in mind keep me connected. Morning and evening rituals of talking to him, praying, and meditating. Going to the cemetery. Taking trips from our bucket list. Completing house projects he began. Staring at photos that sometimes make me smile and other times make me cry.

I remember the words I said at his Celebration of Life:

I love his heart, his giving spirit, his sense of humor, his love of nature, his playfulness, his expressive eyes, the sound of his voice, his hard work – he called himself Monty Work Henderson.  Next to him I became Diana Busy Henderson.  His smile is engrained in my mind, his contagious laugh echoes through my soul, and his touch is forever on my skin.

I will never forget. Days that don’t begin with tears are not signs of forgetting. They are signs of remembering our love and they become a part of my healing.